A Death Which Lovers Love
by Zsra187
Summary: 'You might enjoy it, little bird.' Oneshot, PWP.


_**A Death Which Lovers Love**_

They were writhing on the bed, his breath hot on her neck as he kissed and nibbled down her skin, his tongue dipping in to the hollow of her throat. Her heart was pounding heavily in her ribcage; Sansa was almost certain that if he listened closely enough, he would have been able to hear it, even through flesh, blood and bone. His hands were everywhere. They slid over her naked skin, down and down, to that secret place between her legs, and when he touched her there lightly, she sucked in a breath.

He caressed her there, rough fingers smoothing gently over soft skin, eliciting a gentle sigh from her parted lips. 'Tell me…do you do this to yourself, Little Bird?' he rasped.

'I beg your pardon, my Lord?' Her voice gave a little shake.

He ignored the title, and continued to caress her. 'When you're alone…' he kissed down her chest, 'and thinking of the Knight of the Flowers,' he added scornfully. 'Do you find yourself wet with love? Do you soothe your sweet, aching cunt with your own hands?' He leaned back to look directly at her, his gaze indomitable.

Sansa felt her skin flare up at his words and his gaze, a deepening blush spreading across her body. 'I…. I do not…' She swallowed, and her words trailed off into thin air.

'Touch yourself,' he growled.

Sansa frowned, not quite understanding his command. _Why would he want me to touch myself? Surely he would get more pleasure out of touching me himself?_ He was looking at her expectantly, his fiery gaze locked on to hers. He had never asked her to do such a thing before. Admittedly, Sansa thought, they hadn't been doing this very long, probably only a dozen times at most since they had begun. He'd always been unfailingly gentle, never once giving in to the intense, ferocious desire to hurt, to kill, that she knew burned deep down in his soul. She accepted that about him, almost loved him for it, and had begun to greatly enjoy and eagerly anticipate their time together in the bedchamber. And she had not once regretted it, until now.

'I want you to touch yourself,' he repeated, his voice low and rasping. His mouth came down to nip gently at her earlobe.

Sansa felt utterly at a loss. _Is this what he used to ask of his whores?_ She was no fool. As much as she wholeheartedly believed in chivalry and true love, she knew that men had certain physical needs. When she was younger, she'd once overheard Theon Greyjoy whispering to Robb about a whore who lived in Winter Town, describing in minute detail the hands, the kisses, the moans and the pleasure that a few coins could buy him. Sandor was a man, just like the rest of them. She was almost certain that he had frequented the whorehouse before, and was unsure as to whether or not he still did, even though the thought of it made her chest explode with jealousy. _Was this what they used to do for him? _If it was, she felt certain that she was unable to compete. She had given herself to him, completely and wholly, but _this? _She felt her skin prickle with embarrassment.

He must have felt her body stiffen and seen the blush on her cheeks, for he claimed her mouth again, his tongue sliding over hers and his hands gripping her waist, thumbs rubbing circles into her skin. Sansa took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, in spite of her rapidly escalating heartbeat. She dreaded to think of what Septa Mordane would have thought about Sandor's demand. _'You are a Stark! A young lady of a line thousands of years old! You will not disgrace yourself by taking part in such an inappropriate pastime!' _At least, that's what she used to shriek at Arya back at Winterfell, whenever she caught her climbing a tree, or sword fighting with Bran. _But this isn't tree climbing_, Sansa acknowledged, _or sword fighting._ The thought of what he was asking her to do, it made her squirm with discomfort. Even more uncomfortable however, was the realisation that the sudden rush pulsing through her body was one of desire, and not of disgust.

'High born ladies do not entertain themselves with such…' She struggled to find the words to convey her meaning without getting flustered. '…indecent pursuits,' she finished.

'You might enjoy it, Little Bird.' His words had a certain tone to them, one that she rarely heard in his voice. _Amusement perhaps? _Whatever it was, he was clearly enjoying her embarrassment. His hands roamed further up her body, fingertips grazing across her skin, making the fine hair on her arms and torso stand on end. His mouth followed wherever his hands went, placing kisses on the soft skin of her stomach, across her ribcage and up her sternum to the valley between her breasts. Sansa could feel herself becoming overwhelmed with the sensation of his hard lips on her skin, so much so that she found she could not muster the energy to think of another rebuttal.

'It is not for ladies who are gently born to consider such lustful and obscene diversions,' she repeated weakly.

She saw see his eyes blaze then, as though her answer displeased him. 'Every man, woman and child this side of the Narrow Sea knows that the queen fucks her brother. Mother to the King, daughter of the most powerful lord in the Seven Kingdoms. What would you call that, girl?'

Sansa stumbled, unsure of how to answer. '_True_ ladies, my Lord' If there was one thing the golden queen certainly wasn't, it was a true lady,she thought with conviction.

'_True_ ladies, Little Bird? She knew he was mocking her; his lips would twitch every time he did so. 'Do you think yourself a true lady even with my cock in your mouth?'

Sansa gasped, unable to contain her shock at his words. Every day she was becoming more accustomed to his ways, less afraid to gaze into his eyes; nonetheless, she would never be used to his proclivity for being so breathtakingly crude. More often than not, his lewd outbursts would leave her in a stunned silence, unable to articulate any kind of response. She tried now to think of a clever retort, perhaps to recover a bit of her dignity, but found she was unable. His hands were skimming across her ribcage again, and down to her sides, where his fingers wrapped themselves around her wrist.

He dragged her arm slowly upwards and across her body, letting her fingers gently graze across her own skin, until her hand rested just under her breasts. 'Here, girl. I'll get you started.' He kept his eyes on hers as he licked her nipple, then blew on it. Sansa sucked in a deep breath as the sensation tightened her skin, her nipples hardening against the cool air. Holding her breath, she eagerly anticipated his mouth enveloping her breasts, eager for him to suck and lick her, and perhaps even graze his teeth against her sensitive flesh as he had done once before. She was mildly disappointed however, when he picked up her hand once more and brought it up to her breast. Sansa began to object, but had barely opened her mouth before he silenced her protests with a searing kiss.

With his lips on hers, Sansa seized her opportunity. She slid her hands across his chest, down past his flat stomach, further and further southwards. When he let out a groan of pleasure, she was on the cusp of congratulating herself on a job well done until she heard his voice in her ear. 'I know what you're up to. Do I need to remove myself from your presence, Little Bird?'

He heaved himself up from the bed before she had time to answer. Utterly bereft of his heavy weight on top of her, Sansa propped herself up on her arms. 'Where are you going?' She almost winced at how desperate she sounded.

He must have noticed the dismay in her voice, because he laughed at her. It was steel scraping on stone, just like she had always remembered. 'Not far,' he answered. He walked to the end of the bed, and turned to face her. 'I can enjoy you just as much from here.'

A heavy silence fell. His eyes roamed her body as he waited patiently, making Sansa blush hotly. She wasn't even sure why. It wasn't as though she'd never been naked in front of him before. In fact, their lovemaking had become more adventurous as of late, as they found new ways to please each other. Sansa remembered the last time they had been together; she had been writhing beneath him, but gasped in astonishment when he jerked her from the bed and pushed her onto all fours in front of him, taking her like a dog takes a bitch. But this was different. _Now I am spread before him and he waits, as if expecting me to put on a mummer's show. _It made her feel extremely nervous.

The silence between them stretched, and still he waited, his eyes burning into hers. Sansa felt a sudden stab of guilt. She wanted to please him so badly. Finally, she threw caution to the wind_. _Trying to compose herself as best she could, she brought her hand up to her breast and lightly grazed her fingertips across her nipple. Letting out a deep breath she didn't even know she'd been holding, she stilled her hand and waited. _What now? _She thought about what he would do, were he on the bed with her instead of towering over it. Feeling slightly calmer, she fluttered her hands back and forth, trailing her fingers across her chest, then bringing them down to caress her flat stomach and smooth over her hips. _This could be his doing, _Sansa imagined. Closing her eyes, she envisioned his hands on her skin and pulling at her hair, and she squirmed deep into the featherbed.

She ran her hands once again to her breasts, circling her fingertips around both nipples until they were taut and aching, letting out a soft sigh of satisfaction. Her back arched from the bed as she thought of his mouth, his hard, unyielding lips on hers, his tongue licking her breasts. When she pinched her nipple, it was almost as though he were lying on top of her, giving her the pleasure himself. _Oh, Sandor…_

A rough voice suddenly pulled her back to reality. 'Enough,' he rasped. He paused for a moment before he continued. 'Now touch your cunt.'

She had been reluctant before, but now Sansa felt a wave of desire at his words. She could see her chest rise and fall slowly with the rhythm of her heavy breathing, and beyond that, Sandor was stood. He had leaned forward now, and braced his arms on the posts at the end of the bed. 'Go on.'

Trying hard to restrain herself in spite of her mounting eagerness, Sansa smoothed her hands down her stomach, down, down and down until they rested upon the tops of her thighs. Sandor watched her all the while, and when her hands stilled, he leaned even further towards her. The look in his eyes was unmistakeable; they were dark and lustful and swirling. _I have never seen him look so aroused._

She spread her legs before him, bending her knees slightly to rest the soles of her feet on the covers. Her heart was pounding in her chest, so heavy that she could practically feel the vibrations across her skin. Slowly, deliberately, she ran her hand across her thighs and down between her legs. The image of his dark, scarred face flooded her mind as she swept her fingers over the tiny nub she knew would bring her untold delight.

It did. Sansa gave a shuddering sigh as she caressed herself. Her fingers slid effortlessly across her skin, rubbing hard over the small bundle of nerves above her entrance, then moving to her breasts to pinch and pull at her nipples before coming back to circle the nub once more. With every touch and every stroke, she thought of him; his face, his eyes, his mouth, but his voice most of all. It echoed in her ears and spread through her entire body like wildfire, filling her up and burning through her skin. _'I'll have a song from you, Little Bird._' No matter what she did, or where she would go, she'd never forget that voice, the rasp of a steel blade on stone. _I want to sing for him now._ A low moan ripped from her throat as her fingers worked furiously, and her hips bucked.

So immersed was she in her own pleasure, that for a moment she had forgotten he was watching her. She looked towards him now, standing at the end of the bed, drinking in the sight of her. The thought of his eyes upon her body as she performed an act so intimate, so _lustful_, made her muscles tighten, and an aching pleasure swelled inside of her, rushing straight from her core down her trembling legs, making her toes curl. Dipping her fingers to her opening, she was unsurprised when they came back slick and slippery.

She glanced up at Sandor again, a small smile spreading across her face. It was clear to see that even though he was taking no physical part in _her_ pleasure, he was certainly not lacking in pleasure of his own. Sansa marvelled at the sight of him. The muscles rippled in his arms and chest as he stroked himself, and every so often he would run his thumb over the head of his cock and swipe away the pearly liquid that was leaking from the tip. Her breathing came hard and fast as she lay there, their eyes fixed upon each other. His were dark and stormy and shimmering with lust, and all of a sudden, she was hit with the realisation of _why_ he had demanded this of her. Watching him, knowing that he had given himself completely over to desire, and that she was the only woman in the Seven Kingdoms lucky enough to witness it, made her body ache, sending a rush of wetness over her fingers. Over and over again he would groan with pleasure, and his hand would grip tighter, his strokes becoming quicker and more frantic. To watch him made her surge with want, and she knew it must have been the same for him, watching her. His warrior's body was honed to perfection, every inch of him designed to kill and to maim, to bring death and destruction, but at this very moment, he was only bringing her bliss. _If only he were closer…_

'Come to me,' she implored breathlessly. He stood his ground, his face impassive, but behind his eyes she could detect a hint of amusement.

'Sandor, please…'

Confronted with her shameless pleading, Sansa now saw flash of conflict in his eyes. _He doesn't know whether to stay there, or come to me._ Trying her luck once again, Sansa almost begged, '_Please_. I need you.' She spread her legs even wider for emphasis. If she weren't so flooded with desire, she might have the sensibility to be shocked at her own wanton behaviour.

He swore. 'Fuck.' It took him only a split second to make a decision. Walking around to the side of the bed, he climbed on. She thought that he would come and lie next to her, perhaps lean down to kiss her and whisper sweet words into her ear. However, she found herself frustrated once again when he knelt between her spread legs, putting one hand on her knee, the other still stroking his hardened cock. His eyes appraised her body with a possessive look, and he gave another hungry growl. 'You don't know what you do to me girl.'

Sansa whimpered. She was sorely tempted to reply that she knew _very well_ what she did to him, if the look in his eyes and the hardness of his manhood were anything to go by. But his close proximity was overwhelming, and had rendered her somewhat unable to speak. Her fingers continued to rub and stroke, and her heart was hammering in her chest, pounding away exactly in time with the intense throbbing deep down between her legs. Each pulse overwhelmed her with pleasure and clouded her thoughts, and she clenched her muscles tightly, disappointed that she was clenching around nothing. _I feel so empty. _It felt like there was a great void inside of her that needed to be filled, and Sansa knew exactly how she wanted to achieve it.

'Sandor.' Her voice was thick, and so heavy with lust that it didn't sound like hers at all. Leaning up and taking his big hand in hers, she guided it down to where her legs were spread. The touch of his skin on hers, the one thing she needed more than anything in the world, was more than she could withstand, and when his thumb slowly slid across her soaking wet flesh, she had to swallow a moan of frustration. He was taking far too long. _I need him in me now._ Grabbing at his fingers, Sansa pressed them against her entrance.

She saw him give a quick smile, his burned lips pulling across his teeth. For a split second, she thought of the Knight of the Flowers, and how _his_ brilliant, laughing smile would light up his face, making everything and everyone around him seem brighter. When Sandor smiled, it did nothing to make him face more comely, instead only seeming to make him look more terrifying. But as of late, Sansa had found that she did not give one jot as to how he looked. On the rare occasions that she'd seen him smile, however slightly, it had filled her with a happiness so great that she'd taken it upon herself make him smile as often as possible.

'Does the Little Bird have an aching cunt?' He circled his thumb over her skin, tantalisingly close to her opening, but never close enough.

Taking a deep breath, Sansa blushed deeply as she answered with the one word she knew he wanted to hear. 'Yes.'

Her stomach quivered while she waited for him to say or do something_._ She wanted him to touch her, to plunge his fingers inside of her, or better still, hold her legs wide apart and make love to her all night long, until she came undone in his arms.

Giving her a look that was almost a smirk, he pulled his fingers away. 'You'd best resolve that.'

Sansa would have screamed in frustration if it weren't so unladylike. Instead, a small growl emanated from throat as she bucked her hips again, desperate for friction. Giving a rough laugh, Sandor bent his head to kiss her inner thigh, and muttered against her skin, 'Perhaps there is some wolf in you after all.'

Now utterly frantic, her own, desperate hands glided down lower. She was so wet that one slim, delicate forefinger slid inside her with ease. She twisted, and thrust it deep, but it was not enough to give her satisfaction, so she added another. Curling her fingers upwards, she smoothed them across a soft pad of flesh that she encountered there. Stroking it firmly made the pleasure swell up even further inside of her, and she gave a shaky moan. It was a bizarre sensation, Sansa reckoned, to be pleasing herself with her own hands, to have her _own_ fingers so deep inside of her, instead of his. _Bizarre, but no less pleasurable._

'Who are you thinking of, girl? The Kingslayer? That Tyrell whelp?' His voice would never be anything but harsh, but now it sounded even rougher than usual in her ears, but with a hint of bitterness that made Sansa's heart ache for him. _He still does not believe. Does not trust in me, after everything._

She pushed her fingers further inside herself; stroking her inner walls with rhythmic fingertips, blood pumping in her ears. 'You,' she breathed heavily. 'I think of you.' Opening her eyes, her gaze locked with his. _I have to make him see._ She pressed her fingers more firmly, and felt her muscles clench around them, impossibly tight. Her thumb found it's way to the small pearl above her opening and she rubbed it hard, another unladylike groan escaping from her lips. 'Your hands, your mouth.' Reaching up to him with her other arm, she caressed his burned cheek, her palm sliding across the rough and twisted skin. 'Your face.'

Her words seemed to spur him to action, and a deep groan rumbled from his chest. His hands trailed their way down her body until finally, _finally_, they came to rest between her legs, fingers swirling over her sensitive, swollen flesh until she was whimpering in delight.

'Sandor…' Her voice was a broken whisper.

Both their fingers, slick with her wetness, were sliding together, twisting their way inside of her. Sansa cried out as the familiar sensations that signalled her approaching climax began to engulf her; her whole body was tightening, her heart pounding out of her chest, her legs trembling, as Sandor lowered his mouth to hers to steal a kiss. _More. I want more._ She knew it wasn't ladylike to be so greedy, but her need was so strong that she was past the point of caring. Stroking her fingers, slow and hard, she came with a gasp and a shudder, as her muscles tightened and started to pulse, and wave upon wave of pure pleasure swept over her.

She almost collapsed back onto the bed when it was over, chest heaving. There was a warmth in her belly, her face was flushed, and when she brought her hand to her face, she could feel her hair was damp on her forehead. Sansa wrinkled her nose in distaste. _I must look a fright._ She gave him a glance. _At least Sandor doesn't seem to care._

'Seven hells.' He looked almost as worn out as she was, even though he had not yet had his pleasure. The same thought seemed to be on his mind too, for he reached out his arm and wrapped his fingers around her ankle, dragging her to him. 'Get over here and let me fuck you, my cock is as hard as Valyrian steel.'

Sansa leant back against the pillows. 'Really?' She felt bold, as though the night's events had brought something out in her that had never been there before. Smiling, her voice was full of mirth as she echoed his earlier words back to him. 'You'd best resolve that.'

A/N: Written for a prompt at the sansaxsandor commentfic meme - Sandor wants Sansa to masturbate for him.


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